Best Laid Plans
by Happys Hitwoman
Summary: A 3-shot continuation of 'Reaction'. Everyone's feeling the affect of the change in the club for the good - and Redwood's newest Sergeant At Arms is no exception. Part 4 in the 'Redemption' saga. Pure Hap & Amanda/slight fluff. Includes setup for finale story.
1. Chapter 1

**Yes, I'm sneaking back in a bit. This was meant to be a one-shot, but it might be a 2-3 shot. I wanted to spend more time with my favorite couple (and my favorite, neurotic stiff ass!). It pertains to what some of you have asked me about in reviews and PMs. After much thought, and concern for this being OOC or smarmy, I decided to throw caution to the wind and go with it.**

**This picks up right where 'Reaction' ended (same night in the clubhouse) after the 'changing of the guard'. Rank has changed, seats have changed, business has changed – and minds will be too. Hope you enjoy and get a kick out of it. For those of you who need a high dose of Hap & Amanda, this is for you. I own nothing that belongs to Mr. Sutter except the inspiration I draw on from the show. There will be absolutely NO shades of Season 5 as I like to keep my work as original as possible.**

**Not crazy about the title, but it seemed to fit.**

**Tuesday**

**9/11/12**

**Clubhouse – Same night**

More than just the players changed once that sergeant's patch was sewed onto his cut.

Along with it came an odd sense of stability Happy hadn't felt since patching in Redwood. Not that of having a place other than the road to call 'home', but a need to put some stamp of solidification on it. His eyes wandered the clubhouse's interior until they spotted his old lady over by the couch. After working the needle and thread to affix his rank onto his cut, they had parted ways so the men could celebrate as a unit, a brotherhood, a new regime about to establish a new order and take the club to a different level. The players not only changed, but the field as well.

And the outline of that playing field was discussed at the table after the mandatory votes to change the seating arrangements had been completed. Gun running would slowly be phased out – a task which they were going to pass over to the Sutter Creek charter once they tightened up their facility. Redwood would still be the 'face' to the Irish, but the Creek would be taking up the leg work – picking up, assembling and transporting – while Redwood collected a nice 'administrative' fee. Further plans were being made for Elliott Oswald's land for which they now owned a majority as well as a highway bar and grill two of the shop mechanics wanted to take over and grow. SAMCRO would be 'silent' investors - their names not associated with the building nor any licensing – in exchange for a cut of the profits. They were small steps, but ones setting into the motion the tone Jax wanted to set for the club's future which would keep them from having to look over their shoulder. And the more legitimate business they created, the more of a shield they put up around themselves, thus allowing them to be able to take the occasional risk now and then. The drama, danger and death which seemed to follow the club around the last couple of years was enough to last them the next ten. It was time for the club to be able to breath, to be able to earn without looming threats, to be able to leave their families in the morning without the odds of being hauled off to prison at the end of the day.

To Happy, work had always come with risk. Earning big came with a price. The club was your life which you gave over willingly in exchange for what it gave back to you. That was the mantra under Clay's rule and the money it brought in now allowed them the leisure of choosing different avenues which Jax was now driving down. The thrill, the danger, dodging bullets, barely escaping, staying off-grid – that was all Hap knew and how he lived since taking off at nineteen. From Tacoma to the Nomads to Charming, he gave all he was to fulfill his purpose – allowing the club to pull bits and pieces of humanity from him in the process.

Only for a little blue-eyed bitch to give it back to him.

He watched her over on the couch, Thomas crooked in her arm as he slept. The club became her family – her only blood member being the former president who may shortly have to give up a seat for good. For what that woman had done for him, and what she became to him, he wouldn't deny her anything he wasn't capable of giving. His ink, a wedding ring, protection and provision – he would make sure his wife never regretted the choice she made in a life with him.

Something lacked, though - through a combination of incapability and lifestyle. But that 'lifestyle' changed the moment Jax Teller took the gavel. The clubhouse had a different vibe the moment they all walked out of church – that deep breath they were all able to take and let out slowly knowing there was no disaster to fix waiting on the other side. Men dispersed to their old ladies and kids. Plans were being made, homes were being purchased and fixed up, futures being set into motion and, as he looked around at the offspring littered about, legacies were being established and left.

And the 'incapability' in Hap's new 'lifestyle' was no longer something that had to be accepted. There were other means. There were various options. Something which he had told Amanda he had no reason delving into now became a focal point to this solidification process. He loved the woman more than his own life, thus the reason he wanted to be sure she had everything she needed _and_ wanted should that life suddenly end.

**~A~**

**Next Morning.**

_DING_

"What the hell…?"

The pleasant sounding 'ding' and her man's reaction to it caught Amanda in a stifled laugh at the most inopportune time. On her back, left leg hooked around his waist while the other was anchored over his shoulder, her iPhone alerted the incoming text message from the docking center on her night-stand. "Text," she whispered as he drove into her for an early morning romp.

"Who the….?" His strokes became urgent with the two word question

"Hap…..easy."

He stilled. "Shit, am I hurtin' ya?"

"I said 'easy', not 'stop'," she told him, lifting her hips up to take him back in. Her body still wasn't a hundred percent healed from the accident, but enough to where a round in the missionary position didn't pain her too much. Granted she wanted it, but she also knew how patient he was during her convalescence. She'd grit her teeth through it rather than bear the thought of some crow eater trying to comfort him down the clubhouse.

He continued the pace - slower, measured, yet giving her each glorious inch down to the hilt. She bit the inside of her lip and allowed her head to dig back into the pillow at the delicious sensation building inside her. It was late when they got back last night from celebrating for hours which escalated into an in depth conversation about what his new position meant for the club before they were both lights out as soon as they hit the mattress. But this morning brought a deeper realization of what transpired the night before, the patch he now bore and its significance. She also recalled what he told her about the club's new direction which buffered the fact that he'd be basically Jax's human shield in addition to upholding the rules and regulations of the club.

But this morning as the sun broke the horizon and flood its beams between the wood-slatted blinds of their bedroom, he wasn't an outlaw, a biker, and patched member of an MC nor its newest Sergeant At Arms. He was her man, her husband, her protector and rock. Free from clothing and weapons which transformed him outside the house, it was her time to relish him in a manner that not even the men he shared a tight brotherhood with could fathom. Though not ignorant to what his new duties and responsibilities entailed, she couldn't imagine a better man to carry them out. His loyalty to the club was without question and the pride she felt when he was chosen to replace Tig filled her to the brim - just as he was filling her now.

"Mmm, yeah," she purred, enjoying this moment, wishing it could span into minutes and hours until another dash of the outside world sprinkled another bit of cold water on them.

_DING_

"Son of a bitch!" Hap bit out before picking up the pace. The impatient texter was no doubt throwing him off as well as pissing him off.

_DING_

He didn't stop. He only went faster. "The _hell_, Amanda!"

Her hand swept out and knocked her phone to the floor before she lifted her hips to meet him and finish themselves off before the damn phone dinged from under the bed. Her added movements were just enough for both of them as they finally found satisfaction amid the distraction. After his usual ten second cool down, he glared those dark eyes down at her. She met them right back. "What? Like it's _my_ fault?"

"Who's textin' ya at seven a.m.?"

"Would you rather I checked and replied mid-fuck?" she asked, rolling over to grab the fallen phone off the floor – her position perfect for earning her a slap on the ass. "Ow!" she half laughed/half winced.

"Smart ass," he grumbled.

Snuggling back next to him she checked her messages and sighed. "It's Daisy."

He threw a forearm over his eyes. "Figures. What's such a fuckin' emergency?"

She rolled her eyes – unable to fathom a man so grouchy after a round of morning sex. "She can't make lunch today. Second one was to explain she was home sick. And the last one promising to make it up to me."

"She just couldn't say '_can't make today'_?"

Amanda shook her head. "Not Daisy. Even her texts have clear sentence structure and perfect punctuation."

"Weird bitch," he murmured.

She tossed the phone on the bed then looped her arm around his waist – savoring as much as she could of the naked man beside her before they both had to get up. "You just don't know her like I do."

"And I don't want to."

She sighed against his chest, feeling the warmth and texture of his skin against her cheek. "Too bad. Was looking forward to having lunch with her today. Said she had something to tell me."

"Didn't want ya goin' anyway. You need to start takin' care of yourself. Don't want ya overdoin' it."

She snorted into his side. "Didn't stop you from twisting me like a pretzel."

He lifted his head and looked down at her. "I didn't hurt ya, did I?"

"No. I'm fine."

"You sure?" He half turned her over, his hand immediately going to where her spleen had been removed. "Don't wanna…"

She abrubtly brushed his hand away from the healing scar. "Don't."

"What?"

"Don't touch me."

"Don't tell me not to touch…."

"The scar," she filled in. "Just….don't. It's…..disgusting. Never wear a bikini again." God, she sounded vain and pathetic.

"Yeah ya will," he said. "Just throw some ink on it after it heals up."

Leave it to him to find a rational solution to everything. "Yeah. A nice, big, fat smiley face."

He tightened his grip around her shoulders, pulling her close. "Let's hope you never have to earn that, A. But I mean it – I want ya to take better care of yourself."

That earned him a weird look from her. "I already do. Okay, maybe I should start working out or something…."

"…ain't what I meant," he cut her off. "Just…..eat right. Rest. Stop runnin' around so much."

She had no idea where this was coming from. "I do…I do and….I don't 'run around'. I get up, go to the store, work there a bit, take appointments, get lunch, go back to the store, close up and come home. Unfortunately, dinner doesn't cook itself, the house doesn't clean itself and clothes don't wash themselves. I am my own maid."

"You want one?"

"What?" She sounded ludicrous. "No, I don't want a maid. Hap…..where's this coming from?"

He shook his head. "Just want ya to pay more attention to yourself."

That still didn't answer her question and only confused her more. "Hey, 'not taking care of myself' didn't get me hit by a car."

"I know that," he said sharply. "Just like you were thinkin' about future plannin' and stuff, so am I."

The future? Planning? Was he now on some quest to organize the details in the event of her demise after what happened? Or…..what may happen? She sat up in bed as realization came to her. "Bill wasn't my real father, Hap. You don't have to worry."

"What're you talkin' about?"

"Cancer," she said the word like the disease it was. "If you're worried about it being in genes, don't."

Again, he shook his head. "That ain't it, A." As if he were giving up the conversation, he threw the covers back and got up. "Look, you're only three weeks from gettin' outta the hospital. You're still recoverin'. Just….give yourself more time, K?"

Her eyes enjoyed the journey from his legs all the way up to his face – lingering a bit over certain areas along the way. "You sure that's it?"

He playfully yanked the sheet away from her. "For now."

**~A~**

**Later That Afternoon**

St. Thomas was a public hospital, but something about_ them_ littering the hallways rubbed Margaret Murphy the wrong way. Making her rounds she saw one of them waiting. It didn't take an MIT grad to know who he was most likely waiting for. She cautiously walked up to him, making only brief eye contact, but enough to catch _the 'don't-question-me-bitch'_ look in he threw her. Knowing just what she did about these men and experienced enough in her own past life to know how to read the signs, she went to the barely open door across from where he was sitting and opened it up slightly more until the person inside cupped the telephone receiver upon seeing her. "I'll be another minute."

"I don't need you," Margaret replied, motioning her head behind her. "Someone's here to see you."

Craning her head past Margaret, Tara looked out into the waiting area across from her office. She offered a surprised look before dismissing Margaret, "Thanks," she said then quickly finished her phone call. Crossing her office, she went to stand in the doorway and greeted a very unexpected visitor. "Hey."

Stretching his six foot-plus body up from the chair, Happy walked past Tara and into her office. "Need to talk about somethin'."

**~A~**

When you can't go to the mountain, you bring the mountain to you.

Well, in Amanda's case it was lunch. Something good and nutritious to invisibly appease her old man who was suddenly anal about her well being. A crisp salad with sliced avocado, cherry tomatoes, roasted chicken and low fat cheese. For Daisy, she knew she liked Italian and got her an eggplant parmesan on toasted ciabatta bread. Lord knows she could use the carbs and since she wasn't feeling well, Amanda thought an expected lunch visit and a violet-pink orchid plant would cheer her up.

She pulled on the street in front of Daisy's house, glad to see the pale blue Jag in the driveway. The paper bag filled with food and drink in one hand and the orchid in the other, Amanda carefully rang the doorbell with her elbow. Seeing the side curtains moved, she put her face in view – only to be met by a more shocked than surprised Daisy. Maybe this was a bad idea, coming over unannounced. But if she called first Daisy probably would've gotten herself all primped and dressed up. Amanda didn't want to do that. For once, she wanted her only friend on the outside to be unstructured – even if it was in a designer robe and a box of moisturized tissues.

What met Amanda at the door was not a sniffing, sneezing red-eyed mess, but rather someone who didn't look sick at all. Granted, Daisy wasn't swathed in some fashionable number, but even in a pair of white, gauzy lounge pants, simple, black t-shirt and hair a loose, wavy mess she still looked like the best sick person she'd ever seen. "Surprise," she meekly said.

"Amanda." Daisy looked far from sick. Truth, she looked guilty. "I…what're you doing here?"

Amanda's good deed idea suddenly seemed like a bad one. "Oh, sorry Daisy. I didn't mean to drop in unexpected. Just wanted to surprise you with lunch since we couldn't go out. Here," she handed Daisy the orchid so she could fish in the paper bag with two hands, "I got you an eggplant parm. I'll just leave it with…."

"No, no, it's okay," Daisy finally said. "You don't have to go. I just…didn't expect anyone. Come in."

Stepping inside Daisy's modest, little ranch house which was clean, neat and colorless. The orchid would definitely add a splash of color. "Do you like orchids?"

"Oh, right, the orchid," Daisy sputtered, coming out of some trance. "Yes, it's beautiful. Thanks. You didn't have to."

Amanda just studied her friend, noting the uneasiness about her. This was not classic Daisy – all orderly, proficient and on the ball. "You feeling better?"

"Huh?"

"Are you feeling better?" Amanda repeated.

Again, Daisy came out of a fog. "Oh. Yes. Right. I am. Better."

"Daisy?"

"Yes?"

"You're not sick, are you?"

Her slender shoulders slumped as if knowing she couldn't get away with a lie. "No, not really. I just…..needed a day. Didn't mean to lie. I didn't think you'd show up."

"Well," Amanda went to sit on the couch, "I thought if you couldn't get out, I could come to you. You texted last night you had something to tell me."

Daisy brought her hands together, her right one covering the top of her left. "Oh…..right. I did. Um, it's nothing really. Actually, I kind of forgotten what it was."

Amanda wasn't listening – instead, studying Daisy's wringing hands until her eyes widened. "Maybe I can refresh your memory."

"What do you mean?"

"Does it have something to do with that big, fat engagement ring you're trying to hide?"

Uncovering her left hand, Daisy looked like the most un-excited bride-to-be Amanda ever saw. And as a florist, she saw lots of them. "Oh, right. This," she held her left hand up. "Um, Evan gave me this Sunday night."

"Yeah…." Amanda drawled out. Why was Daisy acting like this? Maybe Hap was right. Maybe she was secretly weird. "Does that mean it's an official proposal?"

Daisy took a deep breath and nodded. "Uh, huh. I guess."

"You _guess_?" Amanda sounded absurd. "Daisy," she jumped up and went over to hug her. "You were just proposed to. It's okay to break character and be excited. Scream. Jump up and down. Be giddy. C'mon, no one will see."

Daisy decided to take her friend's advice and show some emotion, but it wasn't what Amanda suggested. Instead of spinning around the room in pre-wedding bliss, she broke down and sobbed.

"Daisy," Amanda was stunned. "What…..what's wrong?"

Collapsing onto a beige, velvet ottoman, Daisy stammered in between sobs. "I'm a rotten person, that's what's wrong. I'm so disgusted with myself I can't stand it. How….how could I have done something so stupid?"

Amanda scooted next to her and held her arm. "What? What did you do?"

"I….." she sniffed and hiccupped. "I…..oh my God," she blubbered then cried fresh water works.

"Daisy, it's alright. Tell me what happened."

Calming herself down a bit she cast watery hazel eyes towards Amanda. "I cheated on Evan."

Amanda's own eyes widened. "You….you did? When? I mean, if he just gave you a ring this past Sunday…"

"Last night," Daisy blurted out.

"_Last night_?" Amanda blurted right back, causing Daisy to lose it again. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…..Daisy, really. Calm down. Let's talk about it."

"There's nothing to talk about," she said in between gulps of air to catch her breath. "I'm a slut. Just like I was in those movies. I'm such a fake – trying to act like something I'm not. But deep down, I'm a closet slut."

Amanda hated herself for wanting to laugh in the middle of her friend's crisis. But hearing Daisy talk about herself was quite amusing, despite the circumstances. "You are _not_ a slut."

"Really? Who cheats on their fiancé three days after getting this," holding up her hand, "beautiful, two carat, brilliant solitaire diamond in a brushed platinum setting?" Only Daisy could be so precise and specific in the middle of a melt down.

"Daisy?"

"What?"

"Uh…..who was it? I mean, you weren't seeing anyone but Evan. And you're practically always at the farm. You've never mentioned anyone else. Really, the only other guy you ever seemed to mention…"

Amanda cut off, remembering when Daisy sent the text last night. It was right before the men came out of church, after the vote which changed the structure of the club. Daisy sounded excited in her text – wanting to have lunch and tell her something important. Until the doors opened and the men spilled out, one by one filtering into the main clubhouse.

All except one – one who left the revelry and didn't return. No. No, no, no.

"What, Amanda?" Daisy asked defensively.

"Daisy. It wasn't…..please tell me it wasn't…you know….."

Standing up like a shot, Daisy wrung her hands again. "Don't," she said. "Don't say it."

But Amanda had to. "Was it Tig?" Daisy didn't have to answer as the sobs came anew. "Oh my God," Amanda said. "Daisy, it _was_ him?"

"Please, Amanda," Daisy begged, taking her by the arms. "You can't say anything to anyone – especially your husband. I can't believe it happened. I'm so ashamed. I'm so disgusted. I don't know what made me…."

Amanda was now genuinely concerned. "Daisy, did he…force himself on you?"

"No! That's just it. It was the other way around. I threw myself at him. Like the secret slut I am." There she was on the slut-kick again.

Amanda approached her with a gentler voice. "Daisy, why? I thought you hated him."

"I do. I did. I mean, I still do. Now more than ever. The filthy bastard got me all confused."

"What do you mean?"

Composing herself a bit more, Daisy sat back down then looked at her friend with shame written all over her face. "Remember when I came to visit you in the hospital and told you that Evan and I…..did it for the first time?"

Amanda nodded. "Yeah?"

"Remember I said it was 'nice' and you told me having sex for the first time with someone new shouldn't be _nice_, but I was kind of…..disappointed because I was expecting that 'wow' moment? Well…last night….with Tig….."

"Yeah?" Amanda curiously asked.

"_Wow," _was all Daisy could say.

Amanda blanched. "Really?"

Daisy nodded, a blush creeping up on her cheeks. "I…..I can't explain it. He's nasty, rude, vulgar, dirty. I'd never be attracted to someone like that in a million years. But…..something about him, as much as he irks the daylights out of me and makes me want to pull that crazy hair of his out, I just…..don't know what came over me."

"Bad boy," Amanda said.

"Oh God," Daisy groaned. "I _can't._ I can't be sucked in by that again. I already succumbed to that in college with Tony and look where _that _got me. No, I have to forget about last night. Which is why I had to stay home today. I couldn't face Evan – afraid that he'd take on look at me and know. No, I have to put last night out of my mind and never _ever_ mention it again. I'll be fine – really. I'm good at being in control."

"What about _staying_ in control?"

Daisy looked dejected. "I will. I may never see him again so it doesn't matter."

"The club's in business with Elliott – trust me, you'll run into Tig somewhere or another."

"Then I'll just go the other way. I have to. I'm going to marry Evan. I have to. He's perfect for me. We're perfect for each other. He's got class, intelligence, an important position…I can introduce him to my parents. They'll like him. Hell, they'll love him."

"But do you?" Amanda had asked her that question in the hospital and got a half-ass answer.

"I told you I did."

"Okay. Are you _in _love with him?"

Daisy was silent for a moment which was enough to answer the question. "It'll come in time."

"Listen to me," Amanda said, taking her hands. "Whatever you decide, I'm happy for you. But Daisy, don't…_settle_ just to please your parents or because you think Evan's a perfect match because you've got matching wardrobes or because he's…._safe_."

"What does that mean?"

"With Evan, you're in control. Because he's safe. Not a…..bad boy. Tig made you lose it last night. You hated he did that, but at the same time…you know…..wow. Just…..be sure Evan is _the_ one. Think about marriage to him."

Daisy snorted very un-Daisy like. "Funny. Those are the last words Tig said to me before he left."

Amanda had to admit to herself, but maybe Tig was right.

**~A~**

The rest of the day found Hap accompanying Jax, Clay & Bobby to check out the roadside bar they were going to back before he and Bobby split from the other two to go check in on Chibs and Tig supervising the final install of the security system install at the leather factory. When everything was finally a go and that Sutter Creek was ready for the gun running/storing business, the Redwood members disbursed to their bikes to head back, only for Tig to stop Hap.

"Hey – got a minute?"

Hap shrugged. "What up?"

Tig hooked his thumbs in his pockets, looking uneasy. "Last night – didn't mean to tear out like a dick."

"What ya did wasn't easy."

"Had to do it."

Hap nodded. "Yeah. Guess ya did," he replied, straddling his bike.

Tig did the same. "I'm here, bro. No matter the personal shit or how I feel about Jax takin' over. I'm here – for the club."

Starting the engine, Hap gripped the accelerator and revved it a few times before looking at Tig. "Long as that personal shit don't spill over into the club, then it's all that matters."

Little more than an hour later, he went home – wanting to arrive before his wife did. He was greeted by Tank who was dropped off by one of the hangarounds in the van. The pooch almost looked perplexed to find his master home before his mistress before standing by the back door. "A'ight," he said, opening the door and watching Tank bee-line to the back yard to do his thing. Sliding his cut and accessories off, he grabbed a beer then sat at the kitchen table. He still remembered his first night in this kitchen – barging through the back door with Chibs, Juice and Bobby to haul Amanda's doomed ex-late-husband away and deliver him to the mafia. From that moment on, this house became his home, his haven, the one place he was able to be the man other than he was supposed to be on the outside. She made it that way for him. And he wanted to make it more for her.

He almost lost her. Hell, he almost lost himself. They both lost individually, but gained together. They were a small family inside this pretty, rose-covered ranch, but part of an even bigger one outside it. Him, her and the stupid eighty pound boxer no doubt leaving a five pound shit somewhere in the grass. His new rank gave him more responsibility and accountability to the club. It also put him at a bit more risk, though in light of the club's new direction that risk would be few and far between. And it was that which caused his own personal agenda to change. Sometimes, the best laid plans always did. The club's new effect on him caused that – enabling him to consider things he didn't think possible. On the surface, they weren't. But after speaking confidentially to Tara this afternoon, the possibility was there. It would cost, but he didn't care.

The club was all about family, about unity, about leaving a piece of yourself with someone else once you're gone. He had scoffed at Amanda for making 'death plans' and her close call with it only made the reality of planning their future all the more important. But whereas her concern was about death, his was about life.

Tires rolling up the driveway followed by barking told him she was home. Early. Good. Little blue eyed bitch was taking his advice. And if things went according to plan, she'd have no choice than to learn to take it easy.

Coming in the door with an exuberant boxer panting beside her, she dropped her purse and tote on the chair and went over to him. "You're home real early."

"So're you."

"Left Erin in charge – gonna close up," she said, grabbing a wine glass.

He watched her take her favorite bottle of Zinfandel and pour, knowing she was going to definitely need it for what he was about to drop on her. She took sip, letting her enjoy her favorite alcoholic beverage for as long as she could. "A?"

"You hungry?"

"Amanda?"

"Yeah?"

"You wanna have a baby?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Tried not to overdo it with the clinical/medical speak - that sort of ruins the mood, ya know? I know this is mainly Hap & Amanda, but it isn't an SOA fic without some anticipated club business and some serious guy (and dog!) time.**

**Next one should be the last. Plans for after that TBD!**

**TWO**

"_You wanna have a baby?"_

The stem of the empty wine glass shook in Amanda's hand as her brain digested the five words which just spilled from her husband's mouth. "_Excuse_ me?"

Happy looked unaffected by her shock. "You heard me."

"Just want to make sure I heard right."

"You did?"

She poured another glass of wine. The first one she wanted. This one, she needed. "Hap, what's this about? You know I can't….."

"Yeah, ya can," he quickly cut her off.

What the hell was he suggesting? Her tubes weren't tied just for non-conception, but the massive amount of scar tissue inside which prevented a fertilized egg from traveling through them. One procedure to remove an ectopic pregnancy was enough for her to endure and her medical history put her at high risk for another. She didn't know what was more absurd – his suggestion to undo everything and give it a try or a sudden interest in something she didn't think he _was _interested in. It couldn't be the former as he knew she'd be putting her health at risk and the latter practically came out of mid-field. Unless, he was thinking of a completely different avenue. "You mean….adoption?"

Swilling the remainder of his beer, he put the empty bottle on the table, got up and went over to her. The time it took him to walk over seemed like minutes, rather than seconds in which she studied his face. It was serious. Dead serious. And…..different. Much like the different look he had about him last night when he walked out of church with an officer's rank. He looked purposeful, determined – a man who'd spare no detail to get what he wanted.

She knew what would come as soon as he got close enough – that large, warm hand would find the back of her neck, sending that heat all the way down her spine as those eyes of his held hers. They were serious. This was no joke or sudden phase he was going through. He had something in mind. A plan. Something he had most likely already thought out and was armed with all the ammo he needed to make this ludicrous suggestion possible. "I mean," he said, as his other hand found her lower abdomen, "gettin' ya pregnant."

Her own hand found the counter behind her as she set the wineglass down, her head tipping back to look up at him. Her eyes never left his even as she tried to fathom something she wanted so badly, but was physically out of reach. She experienced pregnancy only for a fleeting few moments before an ultrasound showed an empty womb. Looking back, it was for the best as the child would've been a constant reminder of her ex-husband who was most likely never to be found again.

But her permanent decision to never put herself at risk again was fueled by his answer to her question about having children all those months ago. And as much as it hurt her, as a woman, to never experience a full-term pregnancy, she felt her current circumstances, and the man who fit himself right into them, made her realize it was the right thing to do.

But now…_this. _Why was he doing this? Was he _that_ ignorant or just _that_ insensitive? What the hell was he doing to her? "Hap, stop," she whispered, her eyes beginning to tear from the thought of him cruelly toying with her. "This …this isn't funny."

"I ain't laughin', A. We can do this. _ You_ can do this."

Her head shook slowly with denial as she bit the inside of her mouth to keep her emotions under control. "How?"

"In-vitro."

And just like that, she fell still – a wave of her own ignorance and stupidity filling her to the point of embarrassment. Ever since she made the decision to undergo tubal ligation, she knew she was closing off her chances of ever getting pregnant - the way nature intended. And his own admission to not caring about having children put the thought of any other options way out of her mind. As far as she was concerned, it was a non-issue. Something to never be discussed or looked into because they were both in agreement on the subject of something an attention-whore canine nicely filled the void on. The options _were_ there. She just never had reason to consider them.

But her husband obviously did.

"Are…..are you serious?"

He nodded. "Damn straight I am."

"But," still, the big question remained, "even…even if it's possible, why? Eight months ago we sat in this kitchen the morning after you inked me. I told you I couldn't give you children and your reply was, and I quote, '_parenthood ain't something I should be delving into'."_

The hand caressing her abdomen moved up to her face. His fingers – rough, warm, masculine, yet surprisingly gentle when they wanted to be – were an extension of the entire man himself. "I know. And if things hadn't changed, I wouldn't be considerin' this."

"What….._things?"_

"Last night. The club. It's new direction. Everything we talked about."

Her hand went to touch the left side of his chest, as her eyes flitted to the cut hanging on the back of the chair. "Including the new patch you now wear here," she said. "Putting yourself at more risk."

"Like I said," he cut in. "If things were the same with me wearin' that sergeant patch, we wouldn't be havin' this conversation. I told you what Jax wants to do – slowly move away from guns, get into more legit ways to earn. That takes the risk down several notches, A. Granted, the money won't be as much, but it'll be steady and…..safe. Already got several deals in the hopper – more hopefully on the way. Guns were what we do, how we made big cash – fast. But that was under Clay. He took the risks and didn't care what the consequences were because, whatever they were, you went down for your club. Jax is different. Family man. Not just his own, but the _club_. – one he wants to keep together instead of behind bars."

If anything, that was one thing Amanda was in total, perfect agreement with. She knew the risks he took and a list of priors he accumulated over the years which attested to that. If he were to get nabbed on gun running charges, she'd be lobbying for conjugal visits . "So….how does this all play into what you're suggesting?"

His thumb grazed her cheek as he moved in closer, his other hand finding the swell of her lower back. "Low risk, more safety, pull of family….and….._you_."

The emotion of the moment peaked. He was a man of few words and controlled emotion, but he was tossing both aside right now – which was playing havoc on her senses. Yes, this _change_ definitely was having an effect on him. Her eyes welled up anew and this time she didn't fight the tears that rolled out the corners as her voice strained to find one simple word. "_Me?"_

He nodded. "I see you with Thomas. You deserve to have your own in your arms."

That just made Amanda lost every shred of control she was trying to contain. The tears came forth, hiding her face against his chest as she felt his arms go around her shoulders in comfort. Even the dog sensed the turmoil in his mistress as Amanda felt a paw scrape against her calf – Tank's way of letting her know he was there and wanted in on the comfort too. Overwhelmed by the support of the two 'males' in her life, she pulled away and went to sit down at the table, Tank loyally sitting at her feet to place his head on her lap. She gently stroked his brindle-colored head in acknowledgement even as she continued to digest all of this. "You have no idea how much I want that" she finally whispered. "But….." she looked up with concern, "my mother….."

"You ain't nothin' like her and you know it," he emphatically stated. "Trust me – if you up and left a kid I wouldn't let you off the hook as easy as your dad did."

She swallowed hard – remembering the words Gemma had told her this past Easter when she thought she'd end up like her mother, "_Your dad didn't put up a fight when your mother wanted to leave. He let her go and never gave her no thought after that. But if you ever upped and left Hap with a five year old, not only would he have hunted you down, but would've dragged you home tied to the back of his bike."_ She was right.

"Insurance isn't going to cover this."

"Don't matter."

"It's gonna be expensive."

"You're worth it."

Again, fresh tears began to form, but she sniffed them back in order to concentrate on this new plan in their future. "It's not guaranteed."

He shrugged. "Won't know till ya try."

"Okay, so…when? My body still healing."

"Ain't gonna happen next week, A. First ya gotta get checked out – make sure everything's a'ight inside."

Aside from any trauma from the accident, she knew her cervix and uterus were fully functional – it was just her scar-riddled tubes which were the culprit. "Then get referred to a fertility clinic, I suppose."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. "Already got one from Tara."

"Tara? You talked to her about this?"

"Went to see her today. Wanted to know all the deets before I talked to ya bout it. She won't say anything. Don't want to say anything to anyone until there's somethin' to tell."

She nodded. "I agree. Just….just in case…."

"It'll happen, A. That is…..if you want it?"

Was he kidding? Of course she did. But….."What about you? You aren't doing this just for me?"

"Wouldn't suggest it if I was," he told her. "You and me in this together, A. So….what'ya say?"

She liked the sound of that. She loved the sound of that. "I say…..nothing says how much you _really_ love me than being willing to jerk off in a jar."

**~A~**

**Two Days Later**

The fluorescent ceiling lights blinded Amanda, forcing her to close her eyes while enduring the unpleasant exam. Although the female OBGYN surgeon who had performed her tubal ligation was gentle and considerate, there really wasn't any way to make this comfortable in the least until she waited for those words.

"Okay, sit back."

The paper wrapping covering the exam table crinkled as she scooted back, right hand clasping the opening of her gown closed. The modesty was really laughable – especially after the woman seated on the rolling stool below her pretty much just had her face…_.there_ – something her old man and his entire clubhouse would consider hot. Men!

"Well?" she asked gently wringing her hands together, careful of her still-healing fractured left hand.

"Everything looks and feels normal. Ultra-sound was clean. No damage from the accident, but judging from that scar I'm guessing you took most of the force in you mid-section."

Amanda rubbed her ribs where the pain and bruising had dulled to a pale, yellow ache. "Yeah. I could've pierced my lung."

"You're very lucky," the doctor said. "So….did they catch who did it?"

_Um, yeah, but you see…..my getting slammed by an SUV was club retaliation for another girl getting killed, and, well, unless we want World War Three to break out in Charming, we had to accept the 'an eye for an eye' thing and call it a day._ _You understand how it is, don't you doctor? _"I'd rather not discuss it," she vaguely replied. "But I'm assured it's being handled." Not the truth, but not a total lie.

"Okay, well….I don't see any reason why you can't begin your preliminary consultations. Do you need a referral?"

"Already have one," Amanda replied. "Horizon Wellness and Family Planning in Modesto."

The doctor nodded. "Yes, they're very good. However, there's another one closer if you'd like."

"No, that's okay. We really want to keep this under wraps while we're…..trying, you know."

"I understand," the doctor said standing up and pulling out a pad and pen. "I'm giving you a prescription for pre-natal vitamins. I also want you to begin taking five hundred milligrams of folic acid every day. Your general health is good, you don't smoke and keep any alcoholic consumption minimal." She ripped the paper off the pad and handed it to Amanda. "Hopefully this time next year I'll be delivering your baby."

Taking the prescription, Amanda couldn't help but smile wide with that anticipation. "I hope so too."

A half hour later, Amanda was dressed, signed out and heading to the parking lot. She was going to stop at the pharmacy before heading back to the store. No, a stop at the garage first after the pharmacy. Sure, she could call Hap, but something changed in the last two days. For all the invisible line of separation the club put between them, she'd never felt closer. It was hard to explain and her need to tell him every single step of her preparation for this event in person was strong.

Heading to her car, an hysterical woman two rows over got her attention, as well as several others either heading in or leaving the parking lot. She was frantically walking back and forth past the row of cars, head whipping back and forth, eyes searching, as her laments were mixed with curse words. Curious, Amanda crossed over to her row to see if she was alright. "Are you okay?"

"M y car!" the woman shouted. "Someone stole my fucking car!"

"Oh my God," Amanda said. "While you were in the building?"

"Yes! I was only in there for, like, forty five minutes. I can't believe it! There's about two hundred cars in this lot, but mine gets tagged. I locked the doors, had the alarm on…"

"Do you have OnStar?" Amanda asked. "Maybe they can track it with the satellite."

"Shit, I didn't think of that," the woman said, pulling something out of her purse. "For what I paid for that Infiniti, it should have the works." She looked through her alphabetized phone book. "I bet its part of that rash of car thefts that's been happening in the last month?"

"What rash of car thefts?" Amanda curiously asked.

"Don't you read the paper or watch the news?" the woman sharply asked. "There's been a string of stolen cars in the last month. All luxury type ones. Thought to be some high-tech thieves who know how to disable alarms and tracking. Shit, shit, shit, I've only had that car for a month! This is bullshit! Sorry…..gotta call the cops."

Nodding, Amanda went back to her safe, un-luxurious Ford Edge wondering if she should call Daisy and warn her to keep her Jag under lock and key!

**~A~**

Five men and one dog sat outside enjoying a cool brew on a warm, mid-September afternoon. The tone, the atmosphere, even the taste of the beer was different as they discussed the latest task on their job que.

"This port is so off the grid even Santa Claus won't find it," Bobby jested. "Galen secured it for every other delivery."

Juice swilled his beer, kicking a foot up on the seat of the picnic table. "Good mixin' up the locations."

"Can't establish a pattern," Happy said. "Keeps any eyes off the Creek boys till they nail it down."

"So, we babysittin' them on the first pick-up?" Maniac asked, roughly rubbing Tank's head who popped up for some attention.

"Gonna go over the itinerary with them later," Bobby replied. "Soon as Jax gets here we're leavin' for a meet at their clubhouse."

"So, Juicer," Chibs spoke up. "How's the 'acienda comin'?"

"Great," Redwood's new Secretary replied. "Outside's all cut back, paint's done, hardwood's re-finished. Just gotta rip up the shit linoleum in the kitchen, put tile down, replace the counters, get a new fridge, tear down the butt-ugly wallpaper in the bathroom….."

"…..shit, my wallet's cryin' just listenin' to this," Maniac joked.

"It's cryin' from me emptyin' it last night in poker," Chibs told him.

"Wasn't as bad as I thought," Juice said. "Oswald got me a lot of the material cost. Hangarounds provided free labor. Put Toby to work too. Piece of cake. Once we get the furniture moved in and Eve fusses with curtains, throw pillows and shit we'll have a big housewarmin' party." He grinned his large, stupid grin then took another sip of beer. "Cash gifts will suffice."

"Hey!" Maniac called out as Toby crossed the parking lot from the garage to enter the clubhouse. "You done with that bike yet?"

Even the teenager's swag was a little more at ease – part from being desensitized from his time here, the other part probably feeling the tension cut in half around here. "Nah. Need about another five or six hundred in parts before I can start it up. That's about…..ten paychecks away now that I got rent, utilities and shit. Oh, yeah, that reminds me," he reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of bills and handed it to Hap. "Mine and Erin's first month's rent. Can you give it to Amanda?"

Hap's eyes flickered to the money then glared up at Toby. "I ain't your, bitch, kid. Give it to your ol' lady – she sees my wife everyday."

"Oh…uh…yeah…right," he stammered, shoving the money back in his pocket. "Anyway, can't ride even if it's ready. Goin' for my license end of week. Then….I'm gonna register to vote."

The guys smirked at the teen's incessant chatter and pretended to care. "Oh really?" Bobby said.

"Little shit finally became legal," Tig said, joining them from the garage in his mechanic garb.

"When did dis momentus occasion 'appen?" Chibs asked.

Two days ago," Toby replied. "The eleventh."

"A nine-eleven baby?" Maniac said. "Bad karma."

"You know what this means?" Happy said with warning, standing up to tower over the kid. "We can officially kick the livin' shit outta ya without it bein' child abuse."

The surrounding men snickered as they watched Toby try not to lose his shit over that remark. "Uh….."

He stammered back towards the clubhouse entrance as Happy walked forward. "Where do ya think your'e goin'?"

"Inside to get a drink."

"Get over here," Happy demanded in a low growl, causing the dog to let out a deep 'woof'. "Got a little somethin' for ya."

Sheepishly, Toby inched back, his hands up. "Hey, c'mon," he begged. "I, uh….have to get back to work…."

"You're on break," Tig called over, lighting up a smoke.

"Really, it's okay," Toby tried to convince Happy who was reaching behind him to pull something out. "Oh, shit. You ain't gonna shoot me, are ya?"

The kid's face changed when Happy produced his wallet. "Not today," he replied, unsnapping the black leather and pulling out a hundred dollar bill. "Here. Welcome to manhood."

Toby took the bill, his large eyes blinking several times. "Wow. Really?"

"No, you're imaginin' it.".

"Shit, thanks. I can put this towards some decent pipes."

Toby went to go inside when Bobby called him back. "Hey, T-Boy….c'mere." He stood up, opened his own wallet and pulled out another hundred, handing it to the kid. "Make sure those pipes are sweet."

Before Toby could comprehend two hundred dollars handed to him, Chibs got up and walked over, wallet in hand. "Aye, laddie. The faster ya fix 'er up, the faster ya can git that mess outta da garage," he said, handing him yet another hundred.

"Oh, what the hell," Juice said, fishing in his own wallet for another hundred. "Here. You saved me a lot of labor on the house."

Huffing, Maniac stood up and pulled his wallet out. "Talk about peer pressure," he quipped, slipping out a fifty. "Here. Happy birthday kiddo."

"Cheap bastard," Chibs said. "Fork over another one."

Opening his wallet which had a mass of singles and tens, Maniac glared at Chibs. "Since you took most of it from me last night,_ you_ fork it over?"

"Hey, guys, really," Toby said, holding four hundred and fifty dollars in his hand. "That's….that's okay. Wow, thanks. I can get a lot of shit with this."

"C'mere."

That came from Tig who just extinguished a cigarette under his boot. Pulling his own wallet out, he removed a one hundred and a fifty dollar bill and handed it to Toby. "Here."

The kids eyes really were about to pop. "One fifty?"

"Coverin' Maniac's other half," Tig said, looking over at the former Nomad. "You owe me."

Toby was absolutely beside himself with gratitude and looked at each of the guys. "You guys are awesome. Really. This is so cool. I….." he cut off, getting a little emotional.

"Are you gonna cry now?" Tig asked him.

"No!"

"Get back to work."

Toby scurried off, Tank following him, as Bobby spoke up. "Aw, that was sweet of ya, Tigger."

"Oh shut up," Tig shot back.

Jax had finally pulled in, dismounted and walked over – Bobby and Happy standing up to await their new leader. "Ready to leave?" Bobby asked.

"Gimme about ten," Jax said, holding up his phone. "Got a message from Derrell."

"Steel Horse?" Happy asked.

Jax nodded. "Said he's got an offer we can't refuse."

"Bro, that line didn't go over well in The Godfather," Maniac said.

"Lemma see what he wants. Get ready to roll," he said, looking at Tig. "Where's Ope & Phil?"

"Mess of repo's."

"How long you got on the clock?"

"Few hours."

Jax studied Tig, still fresh from giving up his rank two days ago and obviously still coming to grips with all this change. "A'ight," he said, sweeping a gaze towards the remaining men. "Guess it's us. Clay's sittin' this one out." He disappeared inside as Tig pushed away from the clubhouse wall, heading back to the garage.

Into the lot pulled Amanda's white Ford Edge as she parked it far down near the bays. Getting out, Tig passed her on his way back. "Hey," he awkwardly said. "How ya feelin'?"

"Much better, thanks," she replied, sensing his uneasiness after all that transpired.

Tig just stood there for a moment, looking as if he'd been put through the ringer the last few weeks. "Good. Glad," he said, heading back to the garage before stopping. "Hear the little stiff ass is gettin' married."

Amanda contained a smirk and played dumb. "How do you know?"

Looking as if he'd been cornered, Tig quickly passed it off. "I dunno. Shit gets around," he quickly said before disappearing inside.

Amanda allowed herself that smile before running smack into Hap who met her in the lot. "Oh….hey."

He jerked his head towards the garage. "What did he want?"

"Just asked how I was feeling. Thought you two kissed and made up?"

He shrugged, then looked her over. "Gotta leave in a few for Sutter Creek. How'd it go?"

Amanda nodded. "Good. Everything's…..intact." She pulled a small bag out of her purse. "Got my pre-natal vitamins. Said I'm good to go."

"K. Why don't'cha call that place next week. Book a consult."

She actually felt a shiver of reality race through her. "I can't believe this is happening," she whispered against him, unable to contain a brilliant smile

He leaned down to kiss her on the forehead. In some ways, it was so much more tender and passionate than on the lips. "Can't remember the last time you smiled like that.

"Honeymoon?" she leered.

"Nah. You had a much different look on your face, girl."

"Hap! Gotta roll."

"Go on back to work. I'll see ya later."

"You gonna be late?"

"Not sure. Call ya from the road."

"Okay," she said, holding onto his arm, wanting just a few more fleeting moments as the words melted off her tongue. "Love you."

Squeezing her hand he gave her a wink. "Love ya too…mama."


	3. Chapter 3

**I hope you all enjoyed my little three-shot take on this subject matter. I delved into more than just Hap & Amanda here as you know me - I'm all about setting up what comes next. As you can tell, some things have occured during that big jump in time which I plan to explore and fill in the gaps.**

**For the guest reviewer who asked, you can visit my profile where I listed my stories in the order in which they should be read. **

**Thanks so much for all your kind words and support. Taking someone like Happy and mixing him with this type of story without getting all cheesy is a challenge, but I hope I was able to pull it off. Timelines are a little squirrely as I had to fudge them to make everything coincide with certain dates, so don't bother doing the math! This was just something to satisfy some readers who had asked about this and I hope it satisfied that curiosity!**

**Three**

**Ten Weeks Later**

**Late November, 2012**

The cold tile against her bare legs matched the cool nip of the porcelain toilet bowl as Amanda leaned against it. The fatigue from heaving nothing but bile the past twenty minutes wiped her out, but not enough for her to wonder the cause. But the last time this happened, right around the third week of October, almost three weeks after her first 'try' following two weeks of shots and treatments, it turned out to be nothing but a case of some rancid apple cider she ingested at an early Halloween thing in town.

Of course, she viewed the vomiting as a sign of something else and had quickly reached for one of the four home pregnancy tests she had purchased – one for each embryo the clinic had fertilized. After following the instructions and waiting the customary ten minutes, she went back into the bathroom with anticipation and anxiety and looked at the stick. Where she was hoping for a big, blue 'plus' sign there was a bright, pink 'minus'.

What instantly followed were what she dreaded. Feelings of defeat. Of hopelessness. Of loss – of her possible first child - and almost seven grand.

"_It's gonna be expensive."_

"_You're worth it."_

She remembered Hap's words, assuring her that whatever it would take, whatever the cost, they'd make this happen. Even though she went in the first time with low expectations, the possibility of conceiving right out of the gate was there. There was no reason she couldn't, but that was overshadowed by the small percentage of first time failure. And when that did happen, she had allowed herself to cry all over that damn stick – no so much for her own personal failure, but for a child that wouldn't have a chance.

After composing herself, she waited for Hap to come home and find her on the couch, the dog laying on the floor below her - a glass of wine in her hand. That had got his attention right away.

"_What the hell you doin', A?"_ he had said, taking the glass from her.

She held her hand out. _"Give it back. I'm not pregnant."_

"_How'd…."_

"_Been four weeks. I was throwing up earlier and thought…so, I took a home test. Negative. Must've been that bad cider I had earlier."_

Without any thought he had handed her back the wineglass, then leaned over to kiss her on the head. _"Three more to go,"_ was all he had said before heading to the shower. It was clear he wasn't going to coddle her mood or indulge her state at that time which would only have fueled her sadness. He had remained stoic and serious. It was _his_ way of keeping himself emotionally in-check – that it would help her keep her own emotions in perspective. Some would have called his way of dealing cold, but his business-like attitude towards it was his way of influencing Amanda to not fall apart and stay positive.

And she had. After her initial self-pity party, she placed less emphasis on what was lost and more on the three potential babies at the clinic waiting to take root.

And now, almost another five weeks after the second attempt, Amanda now sat in the very same position she did after the first failed one – on the tiled bathroom floor after wretching up her Friday morning egg-white, veggie omlette. And just like the last time, Hap had thankfully not been home to witness her heaving or her possible meltdown afterwards. Instead, Tank sat faithfully in the bathroom doorway, his head cocked in perplexity at his mistress sprawled undignified at the base of the toilet. When her stomach settled, she stood up, put the toilet seat down and sat. Tank walked in and stopped to where his face was at her knees – his stubbed tail wiggled furiously as if wondering how he could help. She reached out and rubbed his pointy ears. "What should I do, bubba?" she asked the pooch. "Should I take the test?"

The dog just looked at her with large, dopey brown eyes – only intent on receiving attention and giving support. With a kiss on the top of his head, she stood up and opened the cabinet under the sink. Way in the back, she grabbed the second of four pregnancy tests she had purchased at the start of this journey hidden behind a bottle of Drano. With a heavy sigh and hopeful heart, she opened the box and slid the stick out. Erin had opened up this morning and Amanda usually worked from home on Friday mornings anyway, going in the afternoon to cover when Lyla left to get the kids after school so she had the next few hours alone to either cry or grin like an idiot.

Looking down at the dog, she snapped her fingers and motioned towards the door. "Out. I can't pee in front of you."

**~A~**

"How many you think you can store?" Jax asked.

Breaking away from his mayoral duties, Oswald surveyed his available stables. "Right now I can do between three and five. _No_ luxury ones."

"Yeah, we heard," Happy stated.

Tig stared ahead with shaded eyes. "All these hoity-toity cars gettin' jacked."

"I just don't want anything on my property the police may think to be…..stolen."

"Hey," Jax told him. "All _our_cars are legit – right down to the paperwork in VIN."

Oswald blew a breath out. "Sorry. It's just this shit's hitting home. GC's working two of my projects got their cars taken."

"Any connection to the other ones?" Happy asked.

"Cops haven't been able to piece together a pattern. I just don't want anything they may think suspicious on my farm – even if they are legit. Just…..no more than five. Maybe I can double up a couple of horses – make room for another, but that's it. Just no Beemers, Mercedes – anything

Happy looked at Jax. "Guess between here and the parkin' lot that should house the inventory we got."

"Yeah, but between our repos and the Horse supplyin' us with their leftovers, we're gonna run outta space soon," Jax whispered back before looking at Oswald. "What do ya think about expandin?"

"What? Here?" he asked, incredulous. "Jax, I already have my hands full with city hall and several construction projects going on."

"Thought you got some young gun runnin' the show?" Jax asked, as Tig's eyes rolled behind his sunglasses.

Oswald sighed. "Evan Reese. Yeah, I mean…..he's project managing them, but….."

"But what?" Happy asked

Thinking for a few moments then shaking his head, Oswald finally answered. "Nothing. Let's just say I still need to be hands on."

"Don't trust 'im?" Tig blankly asked.

"After four months, I still feel like I don't know him."

"Guess your assistant knows 'im better," Jax mused, side-glancing at Tig who was staunchly ignoring his stare. "Isn't she marryin' 'im?"

Oswald looked bewildered. "That came out of left field – especially only after a month or so knowing each other. I've only seen Daisy on one date since I've known her – and that was some work function. Just chalked it up to her being a dedicated work-a-holic, but….along comes Evan with his Gucci loafers and Ralph Lauren shirts and….voila."

Jax folded his arms. "Would she tell ya if he was up to somethin'?"

"I shouldn't be saying anything. Can't make judgements on gut."

"Don't be so sure." Tig's four words had a warning tone.

Jax gave him a look which he didn't meet then back at Oswald. "A'ight. But if you think you can handle adding a few more stalls, we can work somethin' out. We'll front cash for material, maybe up your land rental take to buffer the rest."

"Yeah? And what about the increased property tax an additional structure's gonna cost me?"

Jax grinned and slapped him on the back. "You're the mayor. Fix the bill."

Departing the farm down the gravel driveway, the three men headed to their bikes. Tugging his gloves back on, Jax turned towards the squeak of a door as they walked past the office structure, giving a warm smile. "Hi there, darlin'."

Hand on the doorknob, Daisy stilled in her stilletos at the club's vice president – no….._president_, according to what Amanda filled her in on several months ago. She had only met him once - the day she discovered Amanda had been attacked in the back of her store. He seemed nice enough – especially compared to…_.him_ – and had been instrumental in helping getting her to the hospital where his old lady was waiting to tend to her.

Politely, Daisy nodded. "Good afternoon," she replied. But her focus wasn't the young, blonde biker or Amanda's ever-creepy looking husband, but….._him_. That nasty, vulgar blue-eyed bastard she'd been successful in avoiding since he showed up on her doorstep three months ago then gradually walked out –_after_ she shamelessly allowed him to treat her like a dog on a bitch. She had hated her pathetic self after that – not so much for cheating on her respectable, well-mannered and well-dressed fiancé, but for her inability to stop thinking about that night – and what he did to her – since.

"Congrats," Jax called out, straddling his bike. "Here you're gettin' hitched."

The fingers on her right hand grazed the two-carat solitaire on her left. "Thank you. Yes," she said, eyes flitting to Tig who was characteristically ignoring her, "I _am_."

Three bikes simultaneously started as Jax waved off then sat for a moment looking at Tig. The former sergeant didn't look to be in the mood to take a ribbing from the new leader he was slowly getting used to. "What? Wanna go pick out china patterns with her or somethin'?"

Smirking, Jax shook his head and looked at Hap who was his usual, all-business self – completely disinterested in anyone else's personal life – unless it affected his own. "C'mon, let's get outta here."

**~A~**

**Two Days Later - Sunday**

"Take me for a ride?"

Feeling his old lady hovering behind him, Happy cracked open a sleepy eye and checked the digital – eight am. He knew she'd been acting a bit weird the last two days, but chalked it up to her possible anxiety over waiting to find out if try number two would be success or failure. But suggesting a bike ride not long after the sun came up on a Sunday morning wasn't going to fly. "Later. Go back to sleep."

"I can't," she said, throwing back the covers letting the chill the late November morning let into their bedroom underneath. "I'm gonna take a shower, get dressed and go out."

He twisted his body around before propelling it up. "Where you goin'?"

Stepping over the dog asleep on the area rug, she turned in the doorway – her face undetectable. "Get up, get ready and find out. "C'mon, I'll even buy you breakfast."

She disappeared until he heard the bathroom door close and the shower turn on. Falling hard on his back, he rubbed the heels of his hands into his into his eyes before trying to go back to sleep long enough for her to get out of the shower then pull her back into bed so he could run his mouth up and down every raspberry scented inch of her. She wasn't going anywhere – _especially_ on his bike where any unexpected bump in the road could upset her inside. And the last thing he wanted was to upset his wife. The need to make her happy the last few months was getting so far under his skin it itched.

So the least he could do was get up, get in that shower with her and get breakfast out of her before being dragged off to God knows where. "Fuckin' woman," he bit out in surrender as he threw back the covers and got up. Instead of planning how the rest of the morning was going to go in this bed, he chucked it in favor of his wife's mysterious plan. The best laid plans usually went out the window and his just did because his little, blue-eyed bitch of a wife was wound up so tight around his already twisted heart it made him want to lash out. So he did. Poor Tank was the recipient.

"Get in your own bed!" he growled, causing the pooch to up and scoot out of the bedroom before him.

Cracking the bathroom door open, he slid out of his sleep pants before pulling back the shower curtain – seeing the water spray all over his wife's beautiful body. Her head jerked as the curtain was pulled back. "You coming?"

Yeah, he was – but not the way she had in mind. Taking that stupid scrunchie out of her hand, he flung it on the shower rack, turned her to face the tile then ran his hands up and down her front – while grinding his morning hard-on into her hip. "Yeah…..I wanna," he said before remembering something then backed away. "A…..is it a'ight? I mean….I don't wanna mess up anything inside….."

She reached her hand behind until it found him – her warm, wet hands on his stiff cock making him groan. "It's fine," she said, guiding him in from behind.

For the first time in….well, ever, he was purposefully gentle. Wanting her, but not wanting to disrupt the second implantation she underwent almost five weeks ago. But what if…..what if she already knew? What if it failed again. Could this be why she'd been so…weird the last two days.

But now wasn't the time to rationalize all of that – especially when she was gripping him like a new leather riding glove. Even as she demandingly pushed back, the tight hold he had on her hips allowed him to control the pace. She may think she's alright, but he wasn't going to squander another chance – and another seven grand – because of his need to take her hard. She let out a gasp of pleasure which always caused him to lose it and get a little rough. But instead of going harder, he wrapped her wet, dark hair in his fist and pulled her back. _"Ya ready, A?"_ he purred like gravel in her ear, causing her to with an orgasm for which he followed suit.

Wordlessly they finished their shower, taking time to lather each other up then rinse off. The temptation for round two made him get out first while she washed and conditioned her hair. An hour later, dried, dressed, dog let out and fed, they went out the back door – he to her Edge and she to his bike. "Nuh-uh, A," he said. "No bike."

But she wouldn't budge. "Hap, really. It's…it's okay."

And for the second time in a little more than an hour he gave in. Damn the little bitch. But it wouldn't go without a warning as he walked to his bike, finger pointing at her. "Arms _never_leave me – got it?"

She nodded, taking his helmet. She slid on behind him and hugged tightly from behind – putting up no fight to do his bidding.

Slowly he made it down the driveway and into Charming center. Inside the Main Street Café, they enjoyed a nice Sunday morning breakfast in the quiet before it was swarmed with parishoners from the early service. He didn't ask if she knew and she didn't tell. She kept the conversation on when they were going to visit his mom, what she's bringing to Gemma's next Thursday for Thanksgiving, decorating her store for Christmas, where to get the best tree for the house – chick shit he really had no interest in, but he listened. Something was bothering her and her chatting about different subjects seemed to keep her mind off it. As always, he'd give her space to deal with whatever it was on her own, but if she was like this next week he was gonna nail it down.

After paying the check, they walked back to the bike in the parking lot where she took him by the arm. "Can we make a stop?"

"Where?"

"Cemetery."

Tiny hairs stood on the back of his neck at that word. It was the sight of his most pathetic moment, but it also contained a very important person in her life that she needed to visit. "A'ight."

Pulling down the long, narrow road inside Charming Cemetery, Hap killed the engine alongside the grass and waited for her to slide off. "Go on. I'll wait for ya."

She held her hand out. "I want you to come with me."

He bristled. He didn't like this place. Didn't like what it reminded him of nor the thought of having to put his ma here one day. "A, what's up?"

Her face didn't give away any indiction. "You'll see. Please?"

Damn her and those fucking blue eyes pleading with him. With a bit of reluctance, he swung his leg off, took her hand and let her lead him – his eyes never straying over to where Bekka was buried. That was his past – one that he had made right, avenged and found redemption for. His present….his future was right here, but each step inside the cemetery made him uneasy. But she stopped, far from both the grave from his past and where he dad was buried. She then looped her arms around his waist and looked up at him. "Happy anniversary."

Okay, she'd gone from weird to full, blown, hormonal crazy. "What?"

"I know this is kind of…..macabre, but….this is where we first met - exactly one year ago today. We were both, well…you know how it went." He rubbed his face, causing her to change her course. "Hap….I don't mean it as a way to bring up _that_, but rather what came out of it. Both our lives changed that night."

He couldn't disagree with her on that. "It saved mine," he said without thinking.

"It saved mine too," she told him. "If I hadn't met you, if you never got involved in my life, intervened with Barry, those people who were looking for him could've come for me."

As strange and uneasy as this whole scenario was, it was a part of their life – of their beginning. Avoiding this place like the plague won't ever diminish the fact that if it wasn't for that night, this amazing woman wouldn't be in his damned life. He threw his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close as a late November gust swept up around them. "This what you brought me here for?"

She nodded. "That and…"

"What?"

"I want to visit my dad before we leave."

He kissed her again then playfully patted her ass. "Go ahead."

"Come with me."

What? Again? This morning was a losing battle for him on all fronts. He'd do what she wanted now – and make her return the favor later. "Lead the way."

When they came upon William Carson's grave, he stood behind it, gently leaning against the headstone while Amanda knelt down in front – furiously pulling away the dead-crunchy flowers she'd last brought. She sighed, looking at the stone, her hand running over the deeply, carved lettering. _"Hey dad,"_ she quietly said_. "Sorry I didn't bring any flowers this time. I'll stop by during the week with some fall mums – how's that sound?"_

Happy wanted to walk away, give her privacy. But she wanted him there, so he at least kept his back to her, scanning the mass of headstones as far as his eye could see as his wife continued her conversation behind him. _"I miss you – especially this time of year. But more than ever I wish you were here now so I can tell you in person that….you're gonna be a grandpa."_

The grim landscaping before him was forgotten as soon as he heard those words. He didn't mean to listen, but it was obvious Amanda intended for him to hear. Turning and walking around the headstone, he looked down at where she was still kneeling. "What did you just say?"

She looked up at him, her mischievous grin told him it was no joke. Sneaky little bitch had this all planned out to tell him this way. Standing up, she opened her purse and produced not one, not two, but three pregnancy tests in their cases – the blue 'plus' signs faded, but still visible. "I was sick Friday morning. I didn't want to over-react, but I decided to take one test. It was positive. Thinking it might be a mistake, I used up the other two tests I bought. All positive. I knew what today was, what the date was, and wanted to wait till now to tell you. Here. Where we first met. Where both our lives were saved. Where better to tell you that we just created one?"

He had to hand it to her – she had a way with irony. Pulling her into him, he kissed her – hard, deep and with every ounce of himself. Afterwards, his eyes held hers as his right hand slid down to her belly. "Really, A?"

She nodded with a look on her face which glowed brighter than the sun. "Probably only about five weeks or so. I'm gonna call tomorrow to schedule the official test. I know Thanksgiving's next week, but I don't want to tell anyone until at least Christmas. Just…to be sure. That okay?"

Yeah, it was okay. Everything was absolutely, perfectly okay. "Got your back – mama."

**July 4th, 2013**

This kid just_had_ to pick the damn, hottest day in Charming to be born!

And his father was MIA.

If there was one thing this child was going to learn straight out of the womb was that, as important as family was, the club came first. And when Jax's Uncle Jury in the Indian Hills charter suddenly passed away a week ago, it became a strategic chess move to orchestrate all the surrounding NorWest charter officer's to travel to Nevada for the funeral. Being the mother charter, the entire Redwood MC attended – departing three days after Jury's death with the intention of returning on the second – the day before the baby's due date.

But internal conflicts and the future fate of the Indian Hills charter needed to be discussed before all departed and Jax, being the national president, had to preside over the discussions on what to do and make a decision. And being his Sergeant, Happy had to remain by his president's side. But at eleven o'clock am on the third – after decisions were made and agreements were finally settled upon, Hap's cell went off. It was Amanda – her water had broke and was heading to the hospital. Every Redwood member departed Nevada for a non-stop three hour ride home. Several bikes pulled into the parking lot of St. Thomas around two thirty in the afternoon while the van driven by Tig chauffeured Clay who could no longer ride. "Ready, gramps?"

Clay opened the van door with as much strength his worn out hand could muster. "Let's do this."

But they were a half hour too late.

**~A~**

**Half Hour Earlier**

If Amanda was going to push this baby out, she needed someone on the other side of her to balance out 'Grandma Gemma' in the delivery room – and her friend Daisy fit the bill. For months the former queen tried every manipulative tactic she had mastered over the years to get Amanda to spill the sex of the baby – something only she and Hap knew. But Amanda had a few tactics of her own and being married to a man you needed a crowbar to pry anything out of had rubbed off on her.

"_Tara put aside some of Thomas' things in case you want them."_

_Even almost eight months into her pregnancy, Amanda had been too smart to even answer that question. "Now, if I say 'yes', it'll indicate I'm having a boy. If I say 'no' you'll think I'm having a girl," she told Gemma._

_Dark bangs fluttered as Gemma blew a frustrated breath upward. "Dammit, Amanda. Just tell me."_

"_You don't like surprises?"_

"_No. I don't. If you haven't figured it out by now, I like knowing what's gonna happen before it does."_

"_Sorry, grandma. Not this time, I'm afraid."_

Ever since they found out, she was very careful to always refer to the child inside her as _the baby_ – not 'he', 'she' or even 'it'. Everything from the baby's room to the décor to the clothes she received at a shower were all 'gender neutral' colors – pale yellow, moss green, white, brown – and especially red and navy since her due date was yesterday. But the kid held off one more day to share the country's birthday – and also allow one more day for the father to show up.

And right now Gemma and Daisy had some sort of silent alpha-female contest going on as to who was the best to coach Amanda, tell her to push, wipe her forehead or administer cold water to sip, but Amanda was only concerned about one thing. "He's not gonna make it," she said, in between short bursts of breath.

"Any moment, darlin'," Gemma told her. "They left around eleven. Gonna ride straight through. They'll make it. _He'll_ make it. And even if he doesn't, this little nugget's gonna be waiting in your arms when he gets here."

"Owwwww!" she bit out as she bore down to push. Her left hand squeezed the circulation out of Daisy's right arm. "Sorry."

"It's okay," Daisy told her, spectacularly dressed for the occasion in a color-block, Pucci knock-off dress under her sterile gown."

"Water," Amanda sputtered out. "Cold water. Please."

Before Gemma's impeccable, manicured fingers could reach for the plastic pitcher and cup, Daisy's own sand-colored nails had swiped them off the side table – earning her a pursed lip stare. Pouring, she held the cup up to Amanda's lips. "Here you go. Drink."

"It's so freakin' hot in here," she said after a sip.

"It's about a hundred and five outside," the OBGYN seated down by the launch site stated.

"They're gonna be practically dehydrated and half dead when they get here."

Gemma wiped her forehead with a cool cloth. "Even dead, that husband of yours will drag himself here."

"Amanda – enough rest," the doctor said. "I need you to push."

Both Daisy and Gemma held her in an upright position. "Almost there I think," Daisy told her. "You can do this. C'mon, Amanda. Push."

"Push," Gemma repeated, not to be outdone.

And she did. Once….twice….three times. And then, there was a mighty wail.

**~A~**

Absolutely exhausted, covered in road dust, hot, sweaty and high on a rush of adrenaline, Happy led the charge down the hall of St. Thomas' maternity ward. He, along with the mass equally filthy bikers following him, attracted a mass of attention – from new parents flattening themselves against the glass of the nursery to a bevy or nurses stationed behind the desk – where he stopped. "Amanda Carson -Lowman?"

The timid, little nurse looked as if a lynch mob just came for her. "She's in delivery."

"_Now?"_ his voice boomed. "Where?"

All the nurse could do was point down the hall. "Room three twelve."

"She alone?"

"Two ladies are with her."

"Must be ma and Tara," Jax told him, clapping him on the back. "C'mon. Me and Clay'll go with ya," he said, turning towards the waiting men. "Stay here." The nurses left behind were not fans of that.

The nurse followed them from behind the rectangular desk. "You can't just….."

"He can't, _what_?" Clay delivered in his trademark low-dangerous voice. "Go see his own _wife_?"

Sheepishly, the nurse cleared her throat and nodded. "Go ahead."

Jax slapped Happy on the back and grinned at the nurse. "That's more like it."

As they headed down the hall, Tara was just getting off the elevator. "Jesus, you made it. I saw the bikes pull up and headed right up as soon as my consult was done."

"Thought you were in there with Gemma," Hap asked her.

Tara shook her head. "Maybe it's Lyla. C'mon," she said to Hap. "I'll take you in."

But before she could, Gemma came walking out into the hall – a grin on her face. But all Hap could do was groan. "Shit, no. Did she…..…..already?"

Approaching the club's current sergeant, the former queen placed her hands on his shoulders and kissed his cheek. "Go on in."

As Tara led him to the room, Clay turned to his wife. "Well?"

"Well, what – grandpa?"

"What'd she have?"

Gemma shook her head. "Hap's announcement to make, not mine."

"If Tara wasn't in there with you then who else…..…?" before Jax could finish that sentence, Daisy had come out from where Gemma did – her pristine, colorful dress looking crisp and unwrinkled after the ordeal. "Ah," Jax said.

"Little stiff ass came in handy," Gemma snided.

"See you two are gettin' along," Clay told her.

"Ain't getting_nothing_ with her," Gemma bit out. "Amanda wants to be friends with some prissy outsider, that's her deal. But I still say something's up with her and….."

"Mind your own business, mom."

Quietly, Daisy walked by mother and son and down the hall. Until she saw the posse of bikers then quickly turned around to find the elevator. Pressing the 'down' she waited until she heard someone approach around the corner. "What're you doin' here?" Tig asked.

Spine as stiff as a board, chin high and looking as calm and in control as one could after helping someone deliver a baby, she politely answered. "I was in the delivery room with Amanda."

"She done?"

"Yes, she is."

"Where you goin'?"

"To the cafeteria to get coffee."

Their cryptic question and answer game went on with Daisy not even looking at him as she waited for the elevator. "You comin' back?"

Looking around the corner at the mass of bikers waiting, she flitted her eyes at him. "I don't think that's a good idea."

Tig looked back at his waiting brothers then back at her. "Yeah. It isn't. Best keep it this way."

The elevator finally arrived and Daisy walked between the doors. Turning she pressed the button and looked at Tig. "I know the rules, after all."

Before the doors fully closed, Tig's arm shot out and pried them back open. Stepping in the elevator car, he pressed the button again for the main floor and waited for the doors to close. Once they did, he had Daisy by the arms and flattened against the wall. "Little sarcastic aren't we?"

Daisy's faux struggle against him was useless. "Not now. Not…..here."

"You gonna be home tonight?" he whispered against her neck.

"Yes," she whispered right back.

"Want some company?"

She shrugged, trying to act unaffected. "Whatever."

He glared down at her with those electric blue eyes as his hand slid down her Pucci dress until it found her tight little ass. "Let me make up your mind for ya," he said before kissing her – hard, rough, his hot, dirty body from a three hour ride pressed up tight against her, pinning her to the wall. He made sure she felt every single inch of him – literally and figuratively.

The elevator bell rang, indicating they were on the main floor as Daisy properly pushed him away. Giving each other a breathless look, the doors opened and Daisy walked out as untouched and dignified as she could – walking away without even looking back at him.

"Later, doll," he called out before going back up.

Daisy only replied with a wicked smile to herself.

**~A~**

His hands rarely shook. Not on a bike, not holding a knife to someone's throat or even with his finger on the trigger of a gun. But after washing them in the hallway bathroom, he clenched them tight, the heat and humidity causing his rings to tighten around his swelled fingers as he walked in the room. Almost a week ago, he left one person, now he came back to two – and that other one was snug in the arms of his wife as he walked in. Watching her husband walk in, her eyes teared up. "Sorry. We couldn't wait."

Instead of sitting in the chair, his knees practically hit the floor next to the bed at the sight before him. All he wanted to do was give his old lady what she so badly wanted and he did. _They_ did.

"No….I'm sorry, A," he said, kissing her face as his shaking fingers found the cap-covered head of the child in her arms. "I missed this."

"I know. But you're here now. And…..so are_we_."

With that, he stared down at the tiny face, eyes closed, little bud lips moving up and down in sleep. "Shit, Amanda. We did this."

"Mmm, hmm. Got your eyes…..your mouth. I'm beginning to wonder if I'm even the real mother," she mused. She moved to hold the child out. "You want to…"

"No. I'm filthy.

"Then go home, take a shower, come back and spend the night with us. Tank's at the clubhouse - the girls and hangarounds are watching him."

He never taking his eyes off the baby in her arms until they glanced up at her. "A'ight," was all he could choke out.

Her hand reached up to the left side of his neck where a piece of plastic film was taped. "What's this?"

"Peel it off," he told her. She did, marveling at the four letters inked there. "One of Jury's guys did it last night. Had it covered so no one saw. Didn't give anything away."

Smiling wide, Amanda lightly ran her fingers over the four letters. "Just have to throw the date on there."

"It's good as done."

"I want one too."

"That job's mine," he told her. And with that, he stood up, leaned over and gave her a gentle kiss on the lips then looked into her eyes. Words were never his thing, especially emotional ones, but they'd come much more easily in the passing months. With a recent threat thwarted, the club was strong, legit business was profitable, off-the-grid business every now and then padded the need for excitement and everyone was whole and intact. If ever there was one perfect moment where everything felt right – this was it. And it called for words he rarely said, but meant with every fiber in his body. "I love you, Amanda." Four words. So easily spoken, but their meaning being the backbone of his life.

"_We_love you too," she replied. "Now go, so you can come right back. I'm sure everyone's dying to know."

"But Gemma….."

"Was instructed not to say a word," she filled in. "_You're_ the father. It's _your_news to tell. Clay's gonna be pleased."

"Yeah. I think he will."

"_Will,"_ she murmured back. "That sounds nice."

Rubbing the four letters on his neck he kissed her and the baby's head one last time. "Yeah. It does."

And after he left, Amanda gazed lovingly down at her child. Soon she'd have the same four letters inked on her somewhere_._That's what they decided upon. _Bill_would always be associated with her dad, but for little William Clarence Lowman, _Will_suited just fine.

**The End (of just this!)**


End file.
